Once upon a time there was a young boy. His name is not relevant but you are going to assume that the "he" is me and that is just fine for the sake of telling a story so I wont bother to try and sway you either way. But lets just face it the "he" is most definitely me.
This boy was young and full of life. He spent days running outside with friends in the neighborhood and nights sleeping safe and sound inside his nice warm bed. Well at least I want this to be true.
Those days seem so far away thinks this child now a grown adult living in a too small bedroom trying frantically to figure his life out.
The senses from back then still linger on the memories kept sacred in his heart. The musty and delicious aroma of hot dogs resting upon an open flame. The sound of the river rushing past as you lay awake in your orange and yellow tent. The feeling of the sun hitting said tent and cooking you alive in your sleeping bag. The amazing feeling of fresh forest air that hits your face as soon as you unzip that flap and birth forth into the new morning world.
How those memories and feelings feel so different to his now daily routine.
Waking up to the awful smell of work clothes that you feel asleep in because you were too exhausted to change when you got home. The caked drool on your cheek that now glues portions of your beard hair to the top of your pillow. The way your body hurts and you are not even thirty. When you reach for the milk in the refrigerator you smell death and decay and go out into the new morning world with bed head and an empty stomach.
I know that getting back to a place where camping held such an important place in my heart is not hard but it does seem impossible. I could just stop worrying about money and my constant failings in other departments and just pack up and go. I want to taste the pacific northwest I know and love. I want to experience it with new people and make new memories to not replace but relive that part of my past that I loved so much. I want to not feel this way anymore.
15 years is long enough to hate myself and my life. I have put myself in the best possible position to get healthy and happy for the first time in my entire adult life and yet I am still holding back. Why? Why is it that I constantly disappoint myself on a daily basis. Can I not just be happy with what is right in front of me. Why am I so afraid that this new life is going to be more fucked up than my last one. Will it be good this time or is it not even real. Have I made it up? Am I in a coma somewhere with people praying over me and I am about to suddenly wake up and find myself without worries or cares? I guess it doesn't really matter what is real and what is not at this point. I am so confused but slightly more aware of what it is that I want to be.
Please take me camping soon.
This boy was young and full of life. He spent days running outside with friends in the neighborhood and nights sleeping safe and sound inside his nice warm bed. Well at least I want this to be true.
Those days seem so far away thinks this child now a grown adult living in a too small bedroom trying frantically to figure his life out.
The senses from back then still linger on the memories kept sacred in his heart. The musty and delicious aroma of hot dogs resting upon an open flame. The sound of the river rushing past as you lay awake in your orange and yellow tent. The feeling of the sun hitting said tent and cooking you alive in your sleeping bag. The amazing feeling of fresh forest air that hits your face as soon as you unzip that flap and birth forth into the new morning world.
How those memories and feelings feel so different to his now daily routine.
Waking up to the awful smell of work clothes that you feel asleep in because you were too exhausted to change when you got home. The caked drool on your cheek that now glues portions of your beard hair to the top of your pillow. The way your body hurts and you are not even thirty. When you reach for the milk in the refrigerator you smell death and decay and go out into the new morning world with bed head and an empty stomach.
I know that getting back to a place where camping held such an important place in my heart is not hard but it does seem impossible. I could just stop worrying about money and my constant failings in other departments and just pack up and go. I want to taste the pacific northwest I know and love. I want to experience it with new people and make new memories to not replace but relive that part of my past that I loved so much. I want to not feel this way anymore.
15 years is long enough to hate myself and my life. I have put myself in the best possible position to get healthy and happy for the first time in my entire adult life and yet I am still holding back. Why? Why is it that I constantly disappoint myself on a daily basis. Can I not just be happy with what is right in front of me. Why am I so afraid that this new life is going to be more fucked up than my last one. Will it be good this time or is it not even real. Have I made it up? Am I in a coma somewhere with people praying over me and I am about to suddenly wake up and find myself without worries or cares? I guess it doesn't really matter what is real and what is not at this point. I am so confused but slightly more aware of what it is that I want to be.
Please take me camping soon.